


Winter Story

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Christmas, Fluff, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: Jim and Oswald have always had an unbreakable bond - these three moments, from different stages of their lives, revolve around hands and warmth.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 12
Kudos: 51
Collections: Gobblepot Winter 2019





	Winter Story

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for Gobblepot Winter 2019 - inspired by the prompts 'found one glove' and 'warming someone's hands'. I'm so soft for fluffy gobblepot, you guys. I hope you'll enjoy this story.
> 
> Many thanks to Nekomata58919 for the beta! :3

I.

The first time Jim met Oswald, he didn't realise that it wasn't their first meeting at all. No one could blame him since it had been twenty years since then, yet later, he kept wondering how he hadn't made the connections before. 

It had been a severe winter, though most were really cold in Gotham. The ancient heating system in the school couldn't hold up to the unforgiving frost, and had died by second period. Most kids were happy about this development, and were demanding that the school let them off for the rest of the day. The headmaster, however, assured everyone that professionals were on their way, and the problem would be solved soon.

Another hour passed with no result. Without any heat, the classrooms soon became uninhabitable, and everyone had to put their coats on. The teachers were upset too, having ad hoc meetings in the hallway, complaining that they couldn't teach in such conditions. Finally, two teachers were sent to the headmaster as representatives, who assured the others that they would not leave the headmaster's office without results. 

Students bubbled with excitement, whispering and making plans for a long, snowy weekend. There was only one twelve-year-old boy who sat grimly in the back of the class, listening to the Walkman that was hidden under his big mop of blonde hair and his black cap. When the headmaster finally gave in, and allowed everyone to leave, Jim got up reluctantly. He didn't want to go home; his mother had been in bed for a while, hadn't even left the house since his dad's funeral, and his older brother was never at home. 

He walked slowly, letting groups of younger students run ahead and play in the snow. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just wanted away. The city was strangely quiet, the snowfall forcing people to stay indoors. Jim didn't recognise the streets, especially not with the way they were covered by snow, but he didn't mind. He meandered randomly, taking a left, and then a right, and two left, and a right, his legs taking him automatically. 

Perhaps he shouldn't have listened to music so loudly, and he might have heard the noisy group coming his way. The gang had instantly realised that he was not from the area, and cornered him. Jim didn't even get a chance to take his headphones off, so ironically, he was beaten to the rhythms of  _ Another One Bites the Dust. _ He tried to fight them, even managed to land a punch (which hurt like a bitch), but they were way too many.

Jim lay on his side, tears and blood painting the snow beneath his head. He started sobbing, but not because of the pain, but because he thought that this was exactly what his dad had been fighting against. That his dad would have never let this happen. That he would have caught those punks and taught them a lesson. That he would have picked Jim up and taken him home, and then his mom would have patched him up and made him hot chocolate. That he would have protected him in the first place. But now his father was dead, and his mother might have been too, her absence weighing heavily. 

After a while, Jim had to pick himself up. He wiped away the tears and the blood under his nose, then slowly got onto his feet. His backpack was on the ground, a couple of metres away, kicked and scavenged. His Walkman would have been taken as well, had Jim not hidden the wire under his shirt. He walked away, trying not to think of anything. There was no music, but he kept his headphones on. He didn't want to hear anything, didn't want to acknowledge anything that had just happened. He was quite skilled by now at numbing every feeling. 

However, he soon felt a tug on his jacket. Jim flinched, thinking it was the bullies again. He turned around, raising his hand in defence, only to find a boy, shorter and probably younger than him, staring with wide eyes. 

"Sorry, I just saw you dropped this," the kid said, extending one of Jim's grey gloves. 

Jim put his hands in his pocket and could indeed only produce one glove. 

"See, it's yours," the boy said, smiling. 

Jim took the missing glove. "Thanks."

"Oh, your nose. What happened?" 

Jim shrugged.

"You should put something cold on it, or it will become really big and red. You don't want to look like Rudolph." 

The boy gathered some fresh snow and pressed it into a roundish shape, as if making a snowball. "Put this on. This will help with the swelling. I know from personal experience." 

Jim took the snow and pressed it to his nose. The cold definitely helped numb it. He took a better look at the boy. He had a knitted, colourful hat with ear flaps from which black hair peeked out. The boy had big, greenish blue eyes and a scattering of freckles on his nose.

"Feels better, right?" 

Jim nodded. 

"You're not from here, are you?" 

Jim shook his head. 

"I'm Oswald." 

"Jim." 

The boy smiled as if Jim speaking made his day.

"Let's get you home. Which way is it?" 

"I don't… I don't know. I walked." 

The boy, Oswald, wasn't phased. "That's alright. Which street? I know the whole city," he said proudly. 

Jim was a bit suspicious. "Belmont Drive." 

"It's near the university, right?" 

Jim nodded. His mom used to work there. 

They trekked through alleys and dark streets, spooky places where rats ran away when they approached, places that Jim had never seen before. But the boy was not scared, talking joyfully about everything, from his school life to his adventures outside. Jim couldn't look away from his boisterous new friend, absorbed his words with strange admiration.

They finally made it onto a main road that looked more like the city Jim knew. 

"We don't have long now." 

"How do you know the streets so well?" 

Oswald shrugged. "When bullies are after you, you need to learn about secret passages and other routes. And sometimes you get lost too. Also, Mother needs help, sometimes she sends me to this little shop on the other side of the city. It's only the two of us, and she works a lot."

Jim nodded. "What about your dad?"

"I've never met him. I think he's dead, but mother never wants to talk about him either." 

They walked silently for several minutes while the city buzzed around with excitement for the upcoming holidays.

"I don't have a dad either. He passed away a month ago." 

It was the first time Jim had said it out loud to anyone. People at school knew since word of mouth travelled fast, and they had acted weirdly. Some teachers had pulled Jim aside and told him how sorry they were, while most students just avoided him, or whispered with others when Jim was around. Loneliness had been a heavy coat to wear, so it felt good shrug it off in front of someone who didn't judge.

"I'm sorry. It must have been very hard for you," Oswald said and Jim knew he meant it. "Do you live with your mom now?" 

"I have an older brother too," Jim murmured while they waited at a crossing. "But he's never home. He goes out with his stupid friends. I know they drink, he's smuggling bottles. Probably does other stuff too."

Oswald looked down. "He'll get in trouble." 

"Yeah, I tried telling mom, but she… Can't deal with it, I guess." 

Jim wasn't sure where all this was coming from or when his eyes got teary all of a sudden. He wiped it away quickly. Oswald saw it, but he didn't say anything about it. 

"Hey, want to see the big Christmas tree?" 

Jim nodded. 

They just had to turn on the right and cross a street to get a glimpse of the golden lights. It wasn’t dark yet, but the sky was gloomy, so the thousands of lights could be seen very well. 

"Race to the tree?" Oswald asked and didn't even wait for an answer, he ran off. Jim followed soon, and they pushed each other playfully while their backpacks rattled and their laughter filled the square. 

"I won, I won," Oswald chanted, but Jim was clinging to his jacket. 

"No, I was here too. It's a draw." 

"Nope, it's just me! Losers get snow in their face," Oswald laughed as he scooped up snow from beneath the tree and launched it at Jim, making him yell in surprise. 

"Cheater!"

Jim had to retaliate, so a proper snowball fight ensued. His mind was finally clear, the only thing in there the desire to make his snowballs hit the target. Oswald was more skilled and cunning, but Jim had a great time. As they resumed their walk home and Jim brushed snow off his hat, he realised that it was the first day he felt not awful. He had actually laughed. 

Oswald was recounting a story from a past winter, and Jim's eyes lingered on his red cheeks and animated eyes. He didn't know what this weird feeling was, but he knew that he would have liked to have Oswald as a friend. To just talk with someone who didn't remind him of his crappy life every second. 

The area became more familiar, and Jim was sure that he could find his way home from here, but Oswald didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave and Jim was certainly not going to suggest it. The streets slowly quieted as they left the busy part and entered the suburbs. The houses were different here than Oswald's side of the city, and both felt it. 

"Number 10, that's my house," Jim said, kicking a pebble on his way.

"It's nice," Oswald said, even though it was the only one lacking Christmas decorations. He smiled. "Alright, guess I'll go back now before mother calls the cops." 

"Thank you." Jim wanted to say more, but didn't know how. What should he say? That Oswald should come and visit him? Borrow his bike any time he wanted? Or that he'd go over for a visit? He didn't even know where Oswald lived. "I'll owe you."

"That's alright. Friends don't owe friends.”

Jim smiled, and waved at his new friend.

"See you, Jim." 

Jim watched Oswald until he disappeared down the road, then he shuffled inside.

  
  


II.

The trigger in Jim's mind was the trip he and Harvey took to Mrs. Kapelput. Jim had never frequented that area, yet he had a strong deja vu feeling the entire way. The narrow streets, the multilingual graffiti, the sense that he was trespassing were all very familiar. Perhaps if Mrs. Kapelput had shown them a picture of Oswald as a child, Jim would have remembered. To be fair, the boy's face was a blurry memory, his kindness and the unexpected kinship were the things that had stood out for Jim. 

Instead, Jim was given a rather recent photograph, and the sight of those eyes made Jim uneasy. How could he console poor Mrs. Kapelput that Oswald was most probably alive, but hiding? He couldn't know for sure, but he hoped that Oswald got away and was going to build a new and better life in a better city. 

All these things were nagging at Jim, but it wasn't until later, while visiting Oswald's club for intel that everything got connected in Jim's mind. 

"I'll owe you a favour," Jim said, pretending he didn't see the looks Oswald had been throwing at him. 

Oswald laughed. "Friends don't owe friends, silly. They just do favours, because they want to." 

_ Friends don't owe friends. _

Jim could only nod as he suddenly realised that the boy who helped him after a serious beating, and was so nice to him in such a difficult situation had been none other than Oswald Cobblepot. It wasn't difficult to imagine that Oswald was that boy; after all, he was always eager to help Jim, though nowadays he might have asked for a favour in exchange. 

He probably should have said something then, asked Oswald to confirm whether that really had been him. But then, what could Jim say? He couldn't very well tell a mobster that their meeting two decades ago changed his life? That it gave him hope when there was none left? That he wished every day for years that he would have a friend like Oswald? Or that he'd actually gone a few times in that area in the hopes that he'd meet Oswald again? 

Jim should have said something, but the days wore on, and then months, and even years. Their relationship had its ups and downs, but Jim always considered Oswald a friend, though he would never admit it out loud. Deep down, Jim knew that his feelings were not entirely platonic either. His dreams certainly knew that, and Jim too, evoked those images when lying awake sleepless in his bed.

Repressing worked for a while, even though Jim thought he was going to explode on some occasions. Once Jeremiah caused all that chaos, Jim thought things would never go back to how they were, and that he'd probably die soon anyway. Oswald was in a different faction, commandeering it with an iron fist. Jim didn't expect for their paths to cross often, but of course the day it did, he stood in front of Oswald and would have taken a bullet for him. He might as well have confessed his love right there and then. 

Things were never easy in Gotham, though. His gesture never bloomed to anything, not immediately anyway, which was probably best as even more chaos ensued. Jim fought and fought, and set the matters of heart aside, hoping that the day would come when those would be his biggest concerns. The final battle for their city saw Oswald fighting yet again by Jim's side, and Jim knew this was right and promised to himself that in the unlikely event of them surviving this, he'd try better to be a good friend to Oswald.

They won in the end, but it was hardly a victory, given the number of victims and the scope of the catastrophe. The city would need a lot of time to heal. After Jim was named commissioner, he sought out Oswald to thank him for all his help. They agreed to rebuild their city together with a handshake, and Jim marvelled at the sentiment it raised in him. It was hope.

It was a couple of years into their agreement when a gang started terrorising the docks. Whenever the GCPD tried to ambush them, the gang would mysteriously disappear – someone always tipped them off. Jim was commiserating with Oswald in the revamped Iceberg Lounge, when Oswald proposed they go themselves to smoke out the gang.

Jim knew he should have said no, but he was swept away by Oswald's enthusiasm. He wanted to get rid of the bad guys, and doing so by Oswald's side would be amazing and thrilling. On the drive there, Jim kept glancing at Oswald who smiled at him with confidence. 

"Ready?" 

"Ready."

The gang definitely didn't expect the Commissioner and The Penguin to raid their nest that night. Most of them were clever and tried to flee, but they were easily caught by the duo. The ringleader had vanished in the mess, though, but Oswald had caught a glance of him slipping out. He hurried as much as he could, following the gang leader through the night. The sharp, salty air stung his lungs, and the wet ground made him slip a few times, but Oswald persevered. 

"Looking for me?" the runaway teased, his figure shrouded in mist. 

Oswald, despite being exhausted, lurched forward, but he hadn't noticed that the gang leader was standing on a plank, and he fell right into the cold water below. 

His shock was so great, that it took Oswald a second to start screaming. 

"Help!"

Jim was still in the warehouse, but he could get there after after catching all the bad guys. Oswald reminded himself that he was the Penguin, water was his element, and he could swim to the shore. 

"Help!" 

The waves crashed over Oswald's head, and he swallowed a lot of water, but he still tried to move his limbs despite the numbing cold. He'd survived so many things, he wouldn't be lost this way, he couldn't disappoint Jim, not when things were finally looking up for them… 

"Oswald!" 

Was he already hallucinating? 

"Jim!"

Oswald was flailing, keeping afloat, but he didn't think there was any way he could haul himself out of the water. He didn't want to panic, knew it would make things worse, but it was so frigid and his arms were so tired, he would sink to the bottom. 

"Oswald, where are you?"

"Here!" Oswald swallowed water again. "Jim, here!" 

A couple of seconds later, Oswald saw Jim cast himself against the pier, then extending his arms towards Oswald. His face was determined, eyes focused on Oswald's who wouldn't have been able to look away anyway. Jim gripped his right hand first, brought him closer to the pier, and then attempted to lift Oswald out of the water. It didn't work at first, but Oswald pushed against the pier with his feet, gaining some momentum and helping Jim to get him out of there. 

Oswald landed on top of Jim, and he was so weak he could barely move. It was too cold to do anything, and he couldn't stop shaking. 

"Are you alright?" Jim asked as he sat them up. 

Oswald couldn't speak, tried to nod while watching Jim take off his coat and wrapping it around him.

"Oh no, you hurt your arm… There's a cut right here," Jim said as he inspected it. Oswald might have hit his head too, because Jim looked concerned. "An ambulance should be here soon."

"G-go after the b-bad guy," Oswald stammered, his teeth chattering. 

"He's long gone," Jim stated, taking Oswald's hands in his. "Jesus Christ, you're absolutely freezing!" 

Jim rubbed Oswald's hands, sometimes pausing to blow warm air on them. Experience allowed him to stay calm, but his heart was beating like mad when he'd noticed in the warehouse that Oswald had disappeared. It was fortunate that he'd heard Oswald's cries of help. If only it weren't so cold! It was almost impossible to keep Oswald warm in such conditions, but the ambulance was supposed to arrive soon. 

"I-I'm sorry I didn't catch the boss." 

"You knocked out at least five gang members."

"Six."

Jim laughed. "You did very well." 

Maybe he shouldn't have, but Jim placed Oswald's hand on his cheek to warm it, then kissed Oswald's wrist. He raised his eyes to Oswald who looked back with surprise. Maybe it was a mistake, and Jim started panicking, but Oswald curled his fingers around Jim's cheek. Jim closed his eyes, and nuzzled against Oswald's hand.

They didn't talk anymore until the ambulance and police arrived. The paramedics took care of Oswald immediately, and he missed Jim's warmth, who had to leave him and give instructions to the officers to apprehend the gang members in the warehouse, and to search for runaways.

Oswald clung to Jim's coat even as he was pushed into the ambulance. He couldn't take his eyes off Jim, wished he'd come back and ride with him to the hospital. However, the engine was turned on and the door closed, so Oswald looked away, knowing it wouldn't happen.

There was rapid banging on the door. "Open up!" 

Jim stood there, and Oswald couldn't help but smile. 

"I'll come to the hospital when I'm done here," Jim said and reached out for Oswald's hand, squeezing it. 

Oswald nodded, and Jim let go, but his hand was so warm, Oswald could still feel it. He smiled to himself on the way as the paramedic fussed over him, making sure he was alright. 

Once they made it to the hospital and the doctor took care of Oswald, he was put in a room. Oswald didn't want to be kept overnight, but the doctor promised to release him in the morning if no complications appeared in the meantime. Oswald yielded in the end, if only because Jim promised he would visit. However, it was almost two in the morning, and Jim still hadn't shown up. Oswald told himself Jim was busy with the case, and anyway, he knew where Oswald lived, he could visit anytime. 

A few hours later, the hospital started getting noisy as the nurses checked on the patients to give their meds. Oswald blinked awake, frowning at his unfamiliar surroundings, until he remembered everything. He had to go home. 

Oswald was ready to jump out of bed, but he was pinned down by a warm weight which growled lowly. 

"Jim?"

"Where are you going?" Jim looked up at him, from where he had been half sleeping on the side of the bed, still holding Oswald's hand. 

"Well, I guess nowhere now," Oswald said, and Jim smiled at him sleepily, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. 

"How are you? Are you warm enough?" 

"I'm alright, Jim." They looked at each other, still holding hands. "Thank you."

Jim nodded. "Gang leader was caught a couple of hours ago." 

"Good work." 

Jim waited until Oswald was released, and took him home, helping him into the house. Oswald asked if he wanted a coffee, so he stayed, though his visit ended up a lot longer than a coffee's worth. Oswald offered him lunch too, and since Jim had nowhere else to be, he accepted. It was comfortable, and besides, he could see in Oswald's eyes that he wanted Jim to stay. 

Jim's visits became a lot more frequent, as well as the moments when Oswald would take his hand. And when Christmas came a couple of weeks later, Jim kissed Oswald under the fairy lights. Laughing, they had to move over to the sofa, because they almost toppled over the tree in their enthusiasm.

That night, Jim stayed over. It was the first of many to come.

III.

It was finally time to open the presents – they had agreed not to buy expensive things since they already had everything they wanted. Jim found that a challenge since Oswald deserved only the best. In the end, at Harvey's recommendation, he got a weekend getaway all inclusive package for themselves. A little pampering would do both of them great, given how overworked they were.

Oswald was very satisfied with his selection, wiggling his eyebrows when Jim told him the room came with private hot tub. "This is going to be so relaxing! But I must say, now I feel silly about my gift." 

"I'm sure it's great." 

Jim opened the box to find a pair of soft leather gloves, lined with fleece so it would keep his hands warm. Of course, it was a perfect fit too. Suddenly, he remembered their first meeting, when Oswald had given him back his lost glove. The city had almost completely recovered from Jetemiah's destruction, and they had been married for two years now, but Jim had never brought it up. 

Instead, he kissed Oswald deeply. 

"Oh, I suppose you like it! I noticed you lost one of your old gloves, so you needed a replacement." 

Jim smiled. Some things never changed.

"It reminded me of something that happened to me a long time ago. I lost one of my gloves during a fight, but then this boy ran after me, and gave it back. He even walked me home." 

Oswald's lips parted. "I… You remember?"

"I couldn't forget. Pretty sure you saved my life that afternoon." 

"I just gave you back your glove!" 

Jim smiled. "It was more than that. When did you realise it had been me?”

Oswald shrugged. “Quite early on, I suppose. I saw your address in your file, so I was pretty sure.”

Jim took Oswald’s hand in his. “And you never said anything?”

“I didn’t know whether you wished to be reminded of that part of your life.”

Jim kissed Oswald’s hands. “I’d never want to lose any memory related to you.”


End file.
